That Holiday Spirit
by Jade Hunter
Summary: Ficlet, for the Holiday Fic For All at Twisting the Hellmouth. Buffy, Remy LeBeau, and a break in.


**Title:** That Holiday Spirit

**Author:** Jade Hunter

**Disclaimer:** None of the characters and properties of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ or _X-Men_ belong to me in any way.

**A.N.:** Okay, now I'm just doing it to get more of the pairings I want to see on that list. Is this a bad thing? Am I being selfish? At any rate, here's the answer to #48, Buffy/Remy.

* * *

He should _not_ have taken the job.

No matter how much money was being offered, he should _not_ have taken the stupid job.

Except, he had.

And now he was being chased all over a mansion by a horde of adolescent girls, a good number of them mutants, it seemed.

'_Merde!'_

Just when he thought things couldn't get worse, his path was blocked...by a stunning young woman, looking very petite and very pissed off. There was no other paths to veer, so he was stuck with the angry young blonde woman clad only in her pyjamas.

He tried pushing past her.

No go.

Apparently, she was super strong, and she had him in a little arm lock before he could blink. The pain in his arm was searing, and he swore up a storm.

Only to have a tiny hand slap over his mouth.

"There are little girls in this Institute," the blonde woman holding him in the vise grip snapped at him, rebukingly. "No swearing!"

He tried to look harmless, and nodded his consent.

Thankfully, she let go of his arm, as well as his mouth. Unfortunately, she transferred her grasp to the collars of his coat and proceeded to shake him like a little dog.

"What are you doing breaking in here?" she demanded.

"I - I - I," he managed, and, taking the hint, she stopped shaking him back and forth. "Was hired, y'know, t'steal tings."

Normally, he would be more tight lipped, but this was all that stupid old man's fault for not warning him that the house was filled with mutants. He would have prepared better, had he been warned, but he had not been, and Gambit had no loyalties to men who did not inform him well.

"Steal _what_?" the blonde asked, narrowing her eyes into slits

He smiled as charmingly as he could, under the circumstances, "Some piece o' jewelry. Green stone, gold chain, black inscriptions on de stone..."

She looked troubled. "Who hired you?"

"Ol' man," Gambit tried to shrug. Her grip wasn't lessening any, that was for sure. "Goes by de name o' Ethan Rayne."

Her face sort of crinkled, and she heaved a great sigh. Trampling footsteps told him the horde of girls had caught up, and there were a few gasping sounds of breathlessness. None of them from the girls, it seemed, because he could hear a few of them whispering to each other, absolutely unaffected by his merry chase.

That was a little disheartening.

"Giles," the blonde said, addressing someone in the large group behind him. "He says Ethan hired him."

There was a spluttering gasp. At least _someone_ was winded, a middle-aged male someone, from the voice, "Bloody..." A gasp, and then, "pillock!"

A few of the girls gasped, and the rest dissolved into giggles, and Gambit could hear the word being repeated a few times in muted whispers.

"Giles, language!" another young woman warned from the background. "Buffy, has he said who he is?"

The blonde, Buffy, turned her gaze back to him. "Who are you?"

"De name is Gambit," he answered, and smiled. "An' one more ting."

Buffy raised a brow.

"Mistletoe," Gambit pointed up.

She looked up, and he grinned as the troupe of young girls shrieked with laughter and delight. "Kiss him! You've got to kiss him! Do it, Buffy!" and other such sentiments were shouted.

Buffy looked annoyed, and a little embarrassed, "I'm _not_ kissing a guy who broke into our house!"

"Tradition," Gambit reminded helpfully, still smiling, and there was a chorus of assent from the girls. "Can't go 'round breakin' tradition."

There was poorly hidden laughter of amusement from the same young woman who had spoken before, "Well, it's not like he'll remember, Buffy."

He paused at that. Did they have telepaths here? Ones that were unscrupulous enough to mess around in a fellow's memories? A little prickle of uneasiness began to eat at him then; it was one thing for them to catch him and possibly call the cops, it was another thing, entirely, for them to erase his memories.

"Oh, fine!"

During his internal worrying, the woman called Buffy had been arguing with the girls about the mistletoe and how it did not count in these kinds of situations. However, it seemed that she had been beaten back by adolescent logic. She let him go, and he took the moment to stand up and straighten out the wrinkled collar of his coat; he towered over her now, could see that she really was a tiny thing.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "No funny business."

"Cross m'heart, an' hope t'die," Gambit grinned.

Wrinkling her nose in hesitant distaste - which Gambit objected to; it wasn't as if he was hideous, she could have been stuck with worse than him - Buffy moved closer, lightning fast. She planted a peck on his lips, was about to move away, but he had a good hold of her now, and he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow.

To whoops, hollers, and catcalls, he stepped away, a grin still on his face as he regarded the slightly dazed blonde, "Now _dere's_ de holiday spirit."

And then everything went black.

* * *

FIN.


End file.
